Beauty and the Freeze

Do we on the tundra cling to its beauty because our frozen existence is so bleak?  

Once again, we have been covered with snow.
This time, the heavy wet flakes fell hard and stuck.  

I'm sure the birds can hear the flakes hit the ground.

Yes, it is beautiful, but the beauty comes with a price. 

The cold bites.  If you try to do anything with your hands, gloves are required.  If you try to go without, the problem is not that your exposed fingers feel cold, it's that they physically hurt.  And the skin dries out and cracks if you leave them out too long.  

When it gets really cold, we have to build fires and throw in our frozen words so that we can hear them. 

Thank goodness we don't have to shovel the trees. 

But we do have to shovel our driveways.  It's one of those jobs you don't want to get behind on.  Especially when the snow is wet and heavy.

There were only a few inches on the ground, so I thought I'd go out and clean the driveway with the shovel.  One load convinced me that was a bad idea.  I don't believe that particular snowfall could have had any higher water content and remain snow.  Water weighs over 8 pounds per gallon on a scale, and significantly more on your shovel.  So out came my single-stage two-cycle snowblower.

Isn't she a beauty?

When I bought it, the salesman insisted that I needed to sign up for a 3-year service contract.  He happily pointed out that the contract only cost one-third of the price of the machine.  "I'm reasonably handy," I told him, "I usually fix my machines myself."

"Oh, Sir, you're taking a big chance.  And why would you do that when you could just bring it back and have it fixed?"   

"Because it will fail when there are two feet of snow in the driveway, so I won't be able to get it there anyway.  And as the snow piles up, I won't want to wait a week for the skilled technician who is also working on his high school diploma to get around to fixing it.  No, I'm not getting the service contract."  I completed the transaction and took my little snow blower home.

But the salesman did not give up.  By his third dinner-time call, I knew who it was by the sound of his insistent sing-song voice.  (Yes, this was way back in the dark ages before caller-ID.)  I told him no again, and he asked, "What will you do if it breaks down?"

"I'll tell you what I'll do.  I'll finish shoveling the driveway by hand, throw the snowblower into the car, bring it to the front door of your store, douse it with the gasoline it didn't use, and torch it right there on the sidewalk."  

His already high-pitched voice climbed half an octave.  "Oh no, Sir, you don't want to do that."  

"Actually, I do, and I will enjoy it!"  I didn't hear from him again.  Surprisingly, I never provided the spark that would have initiated the snowblower equivalent of Arab Spring.

About two weeks after the service contract would have expired, the electric starter started making a funny noise.  I took it apart, saw that the engagement solenoid was kaput, and decided that the pull cord worked well enough for now.  And forever.

Should have changed the words to, "Push For Nothin' "

The on/off switch broke seven years later.  I forced it into the on position and ran a couple wires out that allow me to short out the spark plug.   You don't need a switch to turn the machine off.  And if you grab the wires wrong, you get a tingly sensation as a bonus.

Manual choke.  How quaint.  And practical.

Then, the wimpy little bent sheet-metal hold-down for the chute succumbed to rust.  After only 17 years!  Doesn't anyone design things to last anymore?  Now the chute flops around somewhat, but throwing performance is even better because the chute moves out of the way a little and provides less resistance to the high velocity snow.

Maybe the crank is next.  Already replaced the washer.

 It may be time for a new machine.  But as I've said for the last 5, "Maybe I can get just one more year out of it."  Particularly with our winters getting more Carolinian all the time. 

This snow is not beautiful.

But having it off the driveway certainly is...

But back to the original question.  Do we cling to the beauty of the falling snow on the trees because of the hardships we must endure to live where we can observe such things?  

I'm not sure.  But I promise to continue to ponder the question and search for the answer as I gain new perspective during my upcoming trip to Key West.